A Trigun Christmas
by hope-is-4ever
Summary: The Trigun cast placed into A Christmas Carol. Characters will be taken from both the anime and manga.
1. Meeting The Scrooge

A/N: I know I should be working on my other stories, but the Christmas spirit caught me and I just had to write this story. It could also have to with the fact that I've been watching way too many Christmas Carol movies.

This is also dedicated to the great authoress and someone who I'm proud to know, Dwellin. I promised her a one-shot, but it kind of got too big for it. I hope you like it! And I hope everyone else will enjoy it as well!

**EDIT**: It's been quite some time since I worked on this story, but it's about time I finished it, especially since I have a promise to keep, and a new one to fulfill.

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun or A Christmas Carol. They respectively belong to Yasuhiro Nightow and Charles Dickens, people who should be applauded for their accomplishments.

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**Chapter 1: Meeting the Scrooge**

On the planet of No-Man's-Land people everywhere were getting ready for the Christmas holiday. Whoever could afford it had holly hanging over their doors, lights were strung in windows, and beautifully decorated plastic trees were set up in the houses. Wood was much too precious a commodity on this desert planet to be used on Christmas trees, especially when taken into account the sheer number that would have been needed to fill every household.

Bells were ringing down the streets of the city of December and people were wrapped up in their winter gear. Even at this time of year the temperature dropped a few degrees, causing everyone to wear heavier clothing.

One such person was Nicholas Wolfwood, who was jogging down the street on his way to work. He was dressed in his usual black attire that resembled a preacher's garb. He'd been busy setting up decorations and had completely lost track of time.

Nicholas knew that if he was late, his boss would not hesitate to take it out of his pay. His employer was like that.

Taking a corner at breakneck speed, the man in black spotted the small building nestled among many others like it. The sign above it read: Millions & Crimson. The Crimson was crossed out and had been so for the last seven years.

He took the steps two at a time, unlocked the door, and rushed into the office. He stopped on the threshold and took a quick look around the single-room building for his boss. He was sincerely hoping that he'd beaten the old man to work today.

Though the man wasn't really much older than Wolfwood's twenty-eight years, his boss exuded the countenance of a man three times his age. For as long as anyone could remember he'd been like that.

"You're late."

The cold voice startled Wolfwood into bumping into his desk. He turned his gaze to the office in the back and found his boss sitting there in the early morning gloom. Needless to say, he looked like his regular grouchy self.

His frosty blue eyes stared at Wolfwood with disgust. "And what is the excuse for your tardiness?"

Wolfwood bristled at the tone, but answered in a polite manner. After all, this was his employer, and he really didn't need to get fired on Christmas eve. "I'm sorry, sir, but I was helping my family set up for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" One eyebrow rose in question.

Wolfwood felt himself sweatdrop. Leave it up to his employer to forget such a special day. "Tomorrow is Christmas Day, Mr. Millions."

"Christmas, hmm? Just an excuse for people to eat all of their food." Knives sniffed derisively.

His employee really wanted to put Knives straight on the holiday, but managed to keep his cool. He didn't want him to be any crankier than usual when he asked his boss for tomorrow off.

"Since you seem to think that getting ready for tomorrow is more important than your job, then you won't care about not getting paid for the time you were gone this morning." A cruel smirk grew on the cold mans face.

The gritting of teeth could almost be heard in the silence that followed that statement.

With a terse, "Yes, sir," Wolfwood turned to the work that was waiting for him. He'd wait till the end of the day before asking for tomorrow off. If he tried to talk to the man now, he'd say something that would get him fired.

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A few hours later the sound of feet outside proceeded the door being opened with a loud bang.

In the doorway stood a man that looked remarkably like his boss. The blond man said a hearty "Merry Christmas!" to Wolfwood before striding into Knives' office with an air of determination.

A secret smile spread across Wolfwood's face. The day just got a lot better.

Meanwhile, in the office Knives was giving his mirror image his best glare. "What do you want, Vash?" he demanded.

Instead of being offended, Vash pretended to pout. "Ahh, is that anyway to greet your brother? I just wanted to invite you to dinner tomorrow. It's Christmas after all, a time to spend with your family."

Knives resisted the silly urge to gag at his brother's speech. Every year Vash came skipping into his office, blabbing about the spirit of the season and how Knives should go to his house for Christmas dinner.

"Christmas, you say?" Knives' voice had a dangerous quality to it that caught Vash's attention. The lighter blond rose from his desk and made his way to his brother. His tone was frighteningly even. "How many years have you been coming to my office, talking about such nonsense and practically begging me to come to dinner? Too many years."

Knives advanced on his brother who was backing out of his office and toward the front door. "I have never and will never find anything to be merry about this season. And I will come to _Christmas_ dinner with you." The word "Christmas" came off his tongue as a curse word.

Vash was standing in front of the door, a saddened look on his face. "But Knives..."

The man in question shook his head in disappointment. "This time of the year means nothing to me Vash, nor will it ever."

"Tessla wouldn't have wanted you to act like this, Knives. She would have wanted you to be happy."

The pleading look on his face almost made Knives feel guilty for being so harsh on Vash, but it needed to be said. There was nothing on Earth that could ever make him enjoy Christmas. The mention of Tessla only made him more bitter.

"Just leave, Vash. There's nothing for you here." At that Knives turned his back on his brother and made his way back to his office and the lonely work awaiting him.

Vash watched him go and felt his heart break for his brother. The death of their sister had hit him the hardest. Even though his brother always showed a strong front, he really was the softest of the two of them.

He turned to see Wolfwood watching him with worried eyes. Vash gave him a watery smile, wished him another Merry Christmas, and left with a defeated sigh.

After the scene, the two people still in the small building went back to their work.

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A little while later a knock sounded on the door. Wolfwood rose from his chair and went to open it. Standing on the doorstep were two people, both of short stature.

One of Wolfwood's eyebrows rose in question. "May I help you?"

The taller of the two, who barely reached Wolfwood's chest, spoke up. "Hello. I am Luida and this is my associate, Doc. Do we have the honor of addressing Mr. Millions or Mr. Crimson?"

"Who is it?" Wolfwood turned to find Knives standing behind him with a scowl on his face.

The dark-haired man stepped aside for his boss to move forward. Knives waived him away and he went back to his work, grumbling about Knives' off-hand way of dismissing him.

"What can I do for the two of you?" Knives asked the two on his doorstep. His tone was suspicious.

The smaller of the two spoke this time. "We are solicitors for the poor. At this time of the year we go around, asking people for donations. A business owner like yourself would no doubt wish to set a good example and donate a sum to the unfortunate."

The small man gave a big grin that annoyed Knives to no end. He had never liked cheerful people. Actually, he'd never liked people in general, Vash and Tessla having been the exceptions.

In a deceptively calm voice Knives asked, "Are there no jobs that the underprivileged can take? Are there no work houses that they can go to?"

"There are," confirmed Luida, with a small amount of disgust, "but many would rather die than go to a work house. Everyone knows that the conditions of such places are deplorable. Most women and children end up working as prostitutes or slaves."

"Then let them and decrease the human population. The less the better."

His cold words struck the two speechless and Knives took the opportunity to slam the door closed in their faces.

Wolfwood himself wasn't too happy about what his employer had said, but he kept his mouth closed as Knives made his way back to the office.

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At the end of the work day Wolfwood set down his work and made his way into Knives' office.

"Excuse me, Mr. Millions," he said in his best suck-up voice. "I was wondering if I could have tomorrow off. It is Christmas, after all." Wolfwood mentally gagged at his own voice. He really hated having to do this just to get tomorrow off, but it was for his family and they were worth it.

Knives glanced at him before turning back to his paperwork. "And that is supposed to sway me? I think not."

Thinking fast, Wolfwood said, "But no other organization will be open to do business with. There won't be anything to do.." _No one to swindle_, the man added mentally.

He crossed his fingers behind his back as Knives seemed to consider his words.

Finally he set his pen down and looked at his employee. "I suppose you have a point, for once. You may have tomorrow off."

Wolfwood almost wooped with joy, but held himself back. A show like that would make Knives change his mind. Instead, he said a heartfelt thanks, gathered his stuff together, and started on his way home.

Knives watched him go, all the while planning on not paying him tomorrow.

A little while later Knives himself gathered his coat and hat and made his way out the door. Outside, the temperature had fallen even farther and he pulled his coat closer around his body.

It was a lonely and dark street that he walked down as he made his way to his empty house.


	2. Christmas Ghosts to Come

A/N: Another chapter. I know that at the rate I'm going I won't be done by Christmas, but I believe that the spirit of the season is still around for a few days after the holiday.

Disclaimer: I don't own either Trigun or A Christmas Carol, only Nightow and Dickens respectively can claim them.

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**Chapter 2: Christmas Ghosts to Come**

All the houses lining the street were lit but his own when Knives arrived at his place of residence. His was dark and gloomy, and could not be called a home. On the contrary, it looked as if no one lived in the structure for many a year. The grey stone, worn by the years, was cold and uninviting.

He climbed the stairs and fumbled in his pockets for the key to the door. Knives did not immediately notice that the knocker on his front door had started to change. It looked as if a fog was shifting and forming features that resembled something human.

He caught sight of this strange mist out of the corner of his eyes and turned to look. His eyes widened in surprise when, what appeared to be a familiar face, stared back at him. Then he blinked and the vision was gone.

The man shook his head, trying to rationalize what he'd seen. He could have sworn that the face of his old partner, Elendira Crimson, had been staring back at him from the knocker.

Knives pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. It was just not possible that Elendira's face had been on his door knocker.

With a growl, he banished the incident from his mind and unlocked the door.

Knives shivered as he was hit with a blast of ice-cold air that hit him when he stepped inside the building. The only other person who ever stepped inside the house was his housekeeper, and she had left long ago. The night air of the desert had already taken full hold and the temperature had dropped considerably.

The result was that all of the fires had burnt out and the structure was now no more than a large fridge. The night air of the desert had already taken full hold and the temperature had dropped considerably.

Knives felt goosebumps form on his skin as he made his way up the old staircase. The boards creaked below his feet.

The man soon arrived at his bedroom at the top of the stairs and hastily changed into his loose short-sleeved shirt and baggy pants, a robe pulled over himself to keep out the chill. He sat down upon his armchair in front of a fire that he had started in the fireplace. In his lap was a bowl of gruel that he had found in the kitchen. The food was far from appetizing, but it was all he had.

The miser sat there, in front of the fire, alone, and eating his horrible tasting food. There was a deathly silence in the entire house.

Then the quiet was broken.

The distinct sound of chains came from beyond the closed bedroom door. A spoonful of gruel stopped its journey to his mouth as the sound hit Knives' ears. There was no mistaking the sound of metal on wood.

Neither could it be denied that the sound was coming steadily closer. The clanking was making its way up the staircase.

Knives set down the bowl and spoon on the table beside him and turned in his chair to glance at the door. As he watched, the noise reached the entrance to the room. Instead of the stopping at the closed door, the noise continued toward him and a figure appeared to move through the wood. The man's eyes grew impossibly large as he beheld the apparition.

Before him, decked in chains, was a translucent form that resembled his long-dead partner, Elendira Crimson. The tall body and wide shoulders were there, as was the hair he'd worn longer than was fashionable. A few other more feminine than masculine characteristics also gave credit to the identity of the creature.

Not a noise came from apparition as it stood in the middle of the room and stared at him.

Now rarely, if ever, did Knives feel intimidated by anything. He'd stood up to a large number of people that others would not dare cross. But this...this creature that now stood before him, scared him more than he cared to admit.

He quickly turned back in his chair so that he was facing the fire. There was just no way that the figure was real. The thought gave him courage and he looked back, expecting the apparition to have disappeared.

Needless to say, it was still standing there.

As he stared at it with shock and fear written on his face, the figure finally spoke.

"Do you not recognize me, Knives?"

Yet another surprise for Knives. He recognized the voice as that of his dead partner.

Now things were getting out of hand.

Knives was a skeptical person by nature and he refused to believe that the creature before him was anything more than a figment of his imagination.

So he told the thing so.

"Recognize you? I certainly do," his tone was crisp and annoyed. "You are my imagination - or maybe my eyes - playing a trick on me."

His words did not seem to please the apparition. "You doubt what you see before you? Is not seeing believing?" As if to give him a better view of itself, the creature took a few steps toward Knives.

"There are a number of things that could effect one's vision," he argued, rising from his chair. "You could be nothing more than bad gruel." He indicated the bowl and its contents as proof.

The figment of his imagination narrowed its eyes, opened its mouth, and let loose a loud and long wail.

Knives covered his ears in pain as the horrible noise filled the room. Never in his life had he ever heard anything make such a frightening sound. He felt his blood freeze and his breath was coming hard and fast.

"Stop!" he shouted above the noise.

The spirit screeched for a few seconds longer, then closed its mouth. The apparition watched as Knives took his hands off his ears and stood from the position on the floor that-in his pain-he had fallen onto.

"Now do you believe?" Elendira asked his former partner.

"I do," Knives answered in a shaky voice, still recovering from what felt like blown-up eardrums. "Nothing of this plane could make such a noise."

"It is well that you understand that, for I have come with a warning for you," the ghost said in a grave voice.

"A warning?" Knives asked warily. What would a ghost wish to warn him about?

"Yes. I have come to tell you that unless you change your ways, your fate will be as mine." At this the ghost jingled the chains that were wrapped around his body. Attached to the chains were little money boxes that clanked as if filled with coins.

"For my misdeeds I am cursed to wander No-Man's-Land, never to rest." A pained look crossed Elendira's face, as if he was imagining all the years ahead of him.

"Misdeeds?" Knives asked incredulously. "You did no more than anyone else has done. You were a true business man."

"Was I? I swindled people daily, robbed from the poor, and did nothing to help anyone but myself." He shook his head sadly. "For these and more I have been condemned to this purgatory. But it is not my plight that I am here to speak of," he continued. "I have come to warn you that this, and more, will happen to you if you do not change."

Knives was shocked. He could think of no worse a fate than to spend an eternity wandering, of having to watch as other people lived their lives around him. "What can I do to avoid such a fate?"

The dead partner held up three translucent fingers. "Three spirits will visit you this night. Listen to them and there might yet be hope for you."

"Three spirits? Can I not do something else?"

The apparition let loose another long screech, forcing Knives to cover his ears yet again. Then the ghost began to float and with a fast swoop, flew out of the window that had been blown open by some unseen wind.

Knives staggered to the window and looked out upon a sight that he would never forget. There were hundreds upon hundreds of spirits flying in the night air. As he watched, Elendira joined their numbers and then all of them slowly faded away until they had disappeared.

A frustrated growl escaped Knives' throat before he slammed the window shut. Three ghosts, what nonsense! That was the last time he had gruel, he vowed.

After that he prepared for sleep. Right before he got into bed, Knives nonchalantly took a look under the bed and around the room, checking around for the spirits that had been promised.

When he saw nothing, the man berated himself for his foolishness and crawled into his large, four-post bed.

He must have fallen asleep, though Knives didn't remember being that tired, when a bright light woke him. The man sat up in the bed and looked around the room. At the end of the bed stood a glowing figure dressed in white.

The first spirit had arrived.


End file.
